


Wildest Dreams

by Redlittlefox



Series: Wildest Dreams [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:04:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlittlefox/pseuds/Redlittlefox
Summary: The reader has been in love with Dean Winchester since she met him a few years back but has never had the courage to tell him. Sure she can hunt and kill monsters but when it comes to one one that she loves she keeps that under wraps. Though she wishes that she hadn't when a werewolf is involved and she needs to do something quick to save the love of her life.





	Wildest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted this fic on tumblr but I thought I would try and post it over here.

August 21st 2017

 

It was never supposed to end this way. You were meant to live out the rest of your life with Sam and Dean. Hunting monsters, saving people – the family business. Sure, you weren’t related by blood but you were family all the same. They were your family and you were theirs.

Although, maybe just maybe you would one day steel the courage to tell Dean how you felt about him. How he made you laugh, and cheered you up when you were upset. Or how for some reason no matter how many shitty guys came into your life he was far from being one of them. However, all of that was put on a permanent hold.

One hunt, one Werewolf, one moment alone.

Now looking back on it all it was kind of funny. All you had to do was simply go with Dean. Never split up, never let him out of your sight, never allow him to get ambushed.

 

That night there had been a cool bite to the air, which was odd for the middle of August. You and the boys had caught wind of a Werewolf and followed its trail. It had already ravaged and eaten two people’s hearts. You had been the one to notice the pattern though; it was all high school cheerleaders.

 

“I can’t believe it!” Dean burst as he slapped the steering wheel of the Impala. “Cheerleaders!”

 

You glanced up from the map of the town, one eyebrow cocked. He was a little too excited about that fact.

 

“You do know that you are twenty years older than them, right?” You hit the map on your lap exasperated, unable to keep the distaste from your voice. “Unless you want to get arrested for bedding an underage girl?” At this Sam chuckled. He knew as well as you did that Dean had a strange affinity for cheerleaders, but it was still funny to see someone else give him grief for it.

You had been hunting with the Winchesters for a few years now. After you swept in and saved them during a Wendigo hunt that is. Since then you had grown close to them; Sam becoming something akin to a best friend and Dean becoming… well, the one that made your heart skip a beat. He didn’t even have a single clue that you harbored such a crush.

You kept your longing glances to a minimum and your affections tightly bottled up. He was so tall and handsome as hell, how could he possibly like you back? He thought that he was all that was wrong with the world, and all you wanted to do was kiss him and tell him to shut the hell up. Too bad that would only happen in your wildest dreams.

 

“Whatever! I know.” Dean pulled into the parking lot of the high school, forcing you back to reality. “We all ready to go?”

 

Sam held up three silver knifes and his gun. “I know that I’m prepared.” Sam handed one of the knives to you and one to Dean.

 

You propped the door of the Impala open, slowly making your way out into the chilly night. “No time better than a full moon to catch a Werewolf,” you joked, immediately stretching your legs. Bending over to touch your toes, you let your muscles loosen up before having to go chase down that damn Werewolf.

 

“Y/N, be careful. Tonight’s the one night they’re more juiced up than normal.” Dean had somehow made it to your side without you noticing. The gap between you two was only a few feet, but your heart still pounded erratically in your chest. “Wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours to get messed up…” He closed the aching gap between you, pushing a wayward strand of hair out of your face.

 

“I know, Dean. I’ve kind of been doing this for a while.” You spun around as fast as you could. Hoping to avoid Dean catching a glimpse of your face, which was currently a burning crimson. He loved to flirt, but he loved to flirt with everyone. So you never returned it, despite how much you wanted to. Watching him hit on about a dozen blondes somewhat ruined that for you though. It was merely something he did to get his way.

You didn’t really consider yourself attractive either. Stretchmarks encompassed your hips and legs. Without makeup your face was always covered in zits, and the areas around your eyes seemed sunken in – as if you had two perpetually black eyes. But that was just the way you looked. Never really stopped people from asking you if anyone had popped you one, or two. Then, of course, they would try to joke around by asking if you won. It was never funny to you. So you always wore make up to circumvent the conversation altogether.

 

“We should split up. This place is huge, and we will have a better chance if we do,” Sam proclaimed, tucking his knife into the back of his belt. Breaking the silence that had settled into the air with his voice.

 

“Good idea, Sam,” you had agreed, brandishing your gun from the back of your pants. “I’ll take the area over by the gym. Sam, you do the cafeteria and Dean…”

 

“Girls locker room!” he completed for you enthusiastically, earning him your patented dirty look. “Got it.”

 

“There’s that thirty-seven year old perv we all know so well,” you sighed, your face now back to its normal shade. “I was going to say garden since every girl has been found outside.”

 

“You’re the boss, Y/N,” he patronized, offering your favorite smirk. “Be careful, alright? Call if you see anything.”

 

“You too, Dean.”

With that you were off, and you wouldn’t realize until later that that was the last time things would be normal ever again.

 

“Nothing? Sam, that can’t be right.” You let out a long, resigned sigh. You thought for sure that this would be the right time and place. “We’ll head to the garden and see if Dean has found anything.”

 

“Got it.” Sam hung up. You started making your way to the garden, already dialing Dean’s number.

It went straight to voice mail.

Your eyes grew wide as you went to dial again. Voice mail. Sprinting now, you made it to the garden quicker than you even thought possible. Just in time to see Dean soaring through the green house window.

 

“Dean!” you shrieked as you ran over to him. Dean grunted at the sound of your voice, attempting to get on his feet.

 

“Well, you were right about him being here,” he rumbled, laughing in spite of the obvious discomfort.

 

“Where is he now, Dean?” you asked, finally helping him to his feet.

 

“Back in the green house, I’m guessing.” With that the Werewolf bounded its way back through the hole Dean had made previously. “Y/N, get behind me!” he shoved you behind him, lifting his pistol to track its movements.

 

The monster swung suddenly, smacking Dean in the face. It flung him ten feet away from his spot in front of you. The Werewolf hastily swept for you, narrowly missing as you ducked under his arms. You ended up chest to chest with the beast, the barrel of the pistol between you aimed directly at his heart. Before the monster could react, you plugged two shots into his thick chest. The silver bullets hissed as they dug themselves through the sinew. Somehow holding your composure, the life drained from his face until he eventually slipped to the ground.

 

“Dean that was – ” you paused, the rest of your sentence forgotten as you saw his lifeless body slumped over a pile of cinder blocks. The one just a little ways behind him… splattered with blood. At first, your brain refused to make the connection, but when it did you felt as if shocked by a live wire. As you ran over to Dean you distantly heard Sam yell your name, concern hot on his lips. Then he paused as well, his concern shifting to panic as Dean finally came into view.

 

“DEAN! DEAN!… oh god.” In no time Sam was next to you shaking his brother. Able to compartmentalize, Sam put aside his emotions to fix the situation.

 

“Y/N, he’s not waking up… and that’s a lot of blood. We need to get him to a hospital.” Sam picked up his older brother, Dean becoming suddenly much smaller in his younger brother’s arms. Numbly, you made your way to the Impala, Sam only a step behind you.

Once the three of you finally got to the Impala you picked through Dean’s jeans for the key. Somehow you managed to retrieve it without dropping it.

 

“You drive, Sam!” you threw over your shoulder at him, not sure if you could trust yourself behind the wheel. Unlocking the car doors, you made your way to the other side to help Sam lay Dean down in the back seat. You made sure that his head landed with as little complication as possible. Then, you threw Sam the keys once you thought Dean was finally situated.

 

Sam quickly piled into the front. He started the car, and was gunning down the road before you even had the time to put your seat belt on. With no restrictions you twisted around in your seat to look at Dean. He was utterly lifeless – a ghost of his usual self. A knot twisted in your stomach and you took his hand. Whether to comfort him or yourself you didn’t care to discern.

 

Suddenly remembering yourself, you tore your phone from your pocket and punched in 9-1-1.

 

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end sounded calm. Too calm. It sent an edge of irritation into your veins.

 

“Yes, hello,” you composed yourself. “We will be pulling into the hospital with our friend. He fell and slammed his head on a pile of cement blocks… and won’t wake up.”

 

“What will be your time of arrival?” You heard typing on the other side of the line.

 

“Ten minutes or so.”

 

“Alright they will be expecting you – ”  
Before she could finish you hung up the phone, placing a look at Sam whose face was knotted.

 

“He’s so stupid.” At that the dam broke and tears began pouring down your face. “He just had to stand in front of me… If he hadn’t… that would be me.”

 

“Y/N…” he paused to piece together the words as he sped through another red light. Horns squealed behind you, but neither one of you had it in you to care. “Everything will be alright, okay? Dean has been through much worse.” Sam attempted to sound calm, but you could hear the fear behind it all. You wondered offhandedly which of you he was truly trying to convince.

 

“Sam… I should be the one back there. I should be…”

 

“If you say dying I will punch you. I’m not afraid to hit a girl.”

 

With that the conversation halted in its tracks. Now rubbing circles on the back of Dean’s hand, you squeezed it in hopes that he might wake up and squeeze back.

 

As Sam pulled into the ER parking lot you were greeted by a slew of doctors and nurses. Both of you immediately opened your doors, hurrying to help get Dean out and into their care.

 

“Help us… He fell and hit his head… he won’t wake up.” You hiccupped, choking on your words as tears flowed freely down your face. They took Dean from the car and through the doors of the Emergency Room, making quick work of it. Sam followed as you stayed behind looking at the blood on the back seat from Dean’s head.

 

Hours after they had stabilized Dean you and Sam were finally allowed in his room. Well, Sam was but for some reason they didn’t even try to stop you. Once you got to see him Dean was hooked up to so many wires and tubes you felt sick just looking at him. Bile rose up the back of your throat, and you dashed for the nearest trash can. Sam just took a seat across the room, chin rested on his steepled fingers and eyes intent on his older brother.

 

After you finished throwing up in the trash you sat next to Dean, and took his hand, yours shaking the entire time. It was impossible to see your hero like this, but you knew it was worse for Sam. It wasn’t the first time he had lost someone he cared about in a hospital.

 

But so had you.

Losing both your parents in a hunting accident they had been taken to the hospital by none other than Bobby Singer. Who taught you to never to sweat the small stuff. Sure, they were gone but you were not alone. Family didn’t always mean blood.

Bobby had told you to be sad today but smile and move on tomorrow. Because they were always going to be with you no matter what. So you adapted that to your life, carrying a folded picture of you, your mom and your dad.

You promised yourself to always keep smiling even when tears threatened your eyes, but this was an exception. One of your family members was dying. And you needed a day to be sad. Tomorrow would be smiles.

 

“What did the doctors say, Sam?” you asked, trying to break the silence despite not really wanting to know the answer.

 

“He needs brain surgery, but they’re going to see if the swelling can go down before they even try,” Sam regurgitated the information as he rubbed his face.

 

“I wish I would have told him, Sam…” tears started to sting at the back of your eyes once again.

 

“What? That you like him, Y/N? You can tell him when he wakes up,” he replied defiantly, not even considering an alternative.

 

“But what if he doesn’t…” you trailed off, unable to keep your fears to yourself. “I can’t handle that.”

 

Sam and you sat in silence again. As much as he didn’t want to admit it that was a huge possibility. The doctors eventually told you and Sam that there was only a fifty percent chance that the surgery would work even if the swelling went down. The two of you needed a miracle, yet there was none to be found. Castiel was missing in action and the other Angels didn’t exactly like you or the Winchesters. You sat there with Sam in silence for another hour before you couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“I’m going to go get some coffee you want any?” you asked as you stood up, letting go of Dean’s hand. You already knew what he wanted however. A voice in the back of your mind added Dean’s usual order, but you ignored it.

 

“Triple Red Eye, please.” Sam just looked up and licked his lips, which were dry and cracking from the stress.

 

“Triple Red Eye and a White Chocolate Mocha for me.” You stopped as you turned the door knob, remembering what you needed. ”Keys?”

 

“Oh y-yeah, right. You’re not going to go to the shop in the hospital?”

 

“No. this place smells like death and I’m sure the coffee taste like that too.” You two shared a stiff laugh, then you turned towards Dean. “Plus I just need to get some air.”

 

“I get that,” he seemed jealous, as if he wished he could do the same yet found himself unable. “Take as much time as you need I’ll watch over Dean.”

 

The moment you were on the other side of the door you were gone. You sprinted to the Impala that was parked in Visitors Parking. You put the key in the ignition, your fingers more deft than they were before. You listened to the engine roar for just a second, which any other day would have calmed you, now only fueled you. Then you peeled out of the parking lot. You passed every coffee place in the town.

Your life was not worth Dean’s. That thought flipped itself through your mind endlessly as you drove.

 

You pulled the Impala to the side of the road, and turned off the car. Robotically you opened the door and got out. Dean had saved the world countless times, while you were just a two-bit hunter. As you made your way around the car you took out what you needed: a box, your I.D, a bag of graveyard dirt, a black cat’s bone and Yarrow flowers.

 

“Sammy you are right…” you said aloud as you recalled his determination that everything was going to end up alright. “Dean is not going to die.”

With those words on your lips, you closed the trunk and sauntered over to the crossroads only a mere hundred feet away.

 

“Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae.”

 

You stood there waiting who knows how long, each passing second an aching moment of torture. You knew that every demon knew that you worked with the Winchesters. It was a long shot that any would even show up. You waiting for something, anything, but nothing came. You turned on a hell to head back to the Impala when you heard a familiar voice.

You couldn’t help the surge of victory that shot through you at the sound.

 

“Well, well, well, this is a surprise. What might I owe this visit?”

You pivoted back around to see none other than Crowley standing just a short distance from you. He held a twisted half smile on his lips. “No Devil’s Trap, no Angel Blade and no Demon-killing knife?” he clicked his tongue appraisingly. “I like your style. Now what can I do for you?”

 

“I thought you would send a two-bit Crossroads Demon…” Your voice wavered slightly. “I didn’t think I would get the King of Hell himself.”

 

“Well, when you called I knew it would be for something good. So, come now, spit it out. What do you need?”

 

“Save Dean!” you spat the words as you moved towards Crowley.

 

“Woah now, hold your horses.” You held in your surprise over the fact that he didn’t already know. Catching the King of Hell unawares was no easy feat. “What’s wrong with Squirrel?”

 

“He hit his head fighting a Werewolf, and now if he doesn’t get surgery he’s going to die.” Your next words struggled as they passed your lips. “But I can tell either way he will die so I want you to save him.”

 

Crowley paused, likely for dramatic effect than actual mulling over. “No.”

 

Your jaw dropped at his abrupt and blunt answer to your request. Dean and Crowley had been friends in the past – as far as you knew they still were.

 

“Why the hell not?!” you sputtered.

 

“Hell being the operative word there, Love,” he purred. “I need a soul to bring with me.”

 

You froze, staring at his strangely smug face. He hadn’t left yet, which meant that he wanted something. He was just waiting for you to figure it out.

The answer hit you like a ton of bricks. “You want my soul,” it was a statement, not a question.

 

“Bingo,” he chimed, reaching a hand into his pocket.

 

“Ten years for Dean’s life? I can do that,” the prospect of that was better than anything you could have hoped for. “Probably wouldn’t live that long anyways.”

 

“Afraid I can’t give you that great of a deal, Love.” To Crowley’s credit he almost seemed remorseful.

 

“What do you mean?” you were confused. He wanted a deal, yet with no time limit?

 

“I’ll give you the same deal that Dean got oh so many years ago…” when you didn’t seem to get it, he added: “One year.”

 

Only one year? Was that deal really worth it? Sure, you loved Dean, but you were gambling your life for one man. The man who meant the world to you and didn’t even know it. The man who made you smile like a little girl again when everything seemed hopeless. The man who protected you from all things big and small.

You were worthless compared to him. Not to mention, a life without him would hurt more than a life without you of that you were sure.

 

“We have a deal Crowley,” you finally responded, somehow sounding more confident than you thought possible in that moment. “But Dean and Sam are never to know about this, and it needs to look like the surgery worked. I don’t need them thinking that this was something supernatural.”

 

“Deal. Shall we?” A peck on the lips and Crowley was gone.

Then, you flopped back into the driver’s seat of the Impala, and drove to the nearest coffee shop like nothing happened.




End file.
